


Man's Best (Boy)Friend

by PeopleAreScary



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Dogs, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fic Exchange, Grantaire is just stressed, Love, M/M, No beta - We die like mne, Panic Attacks, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Valentine's Day, but it's alright afterwards, sensory issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:46:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29244525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeopleAreScary/pseuds/PeopleAreScary
Summary: Grantaire was having a crisis.His boyfriend was resting on his chest, hugging him in his sleep and threatening to smother him with his fluffy curls and Grantaire was having a crisis. An Enjolras shaped, currently cuddly crisis.-Valentine's Day is approaching and Grantaire wants to give his boyfriend something special to show how much he loves him. But what could he possibly give him that adequately conveys his feelings?(A dog. They adopt a dog together.)
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 39
Collections: Hoes for Valentine's 2021





	Man's Best (Boy)Friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Its_GayRainbows_bitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Its_GayRainbows_bitch/gifts).



> This fic is for the Hoes for Enjolras Discord server Valentines exchange, specifically, it's for [Liz](https://gay4gaybois.tumblr.com/). I hope you like it! I took "a sh*t ton of doggos" and ran with it  
> If you aren't Liz, I still hope you have as much fun reading as I had writing and that you enjoy my first foray into the Les Misérables fandom
> 
> Disclaimer: I know nothing about dogs

Grantaire was having a crisis.

His boyfriend was resting on his chest, hugging him in his sleep and threatening to smother him with his fluffy curls and Grantaire was having a crisis. An Enjolras shaped, currently cuddly crisis.

To be clear, it wasn’t Enjolras that was the crisis, it was just  _about_ Enjolras. Or more likely about Grantaire. And then about Enjolras. About how Grantaire felt about Enjolras.  This wasn’t a completely new experience, after all, he had had frequent Enjolras-feeling-crises since the first time Grantaire h ad seen him. But this was a new feeling cris i s. 

Because this crisis was occurring after a year of both  of  their feelings being known and them being together. After three months of living together and Enjolras making Grantaire terrible coffee he would drink every single time. After cuddling on the couch when Enjolras would pretend he was interested in Grantaire’s Arthouse movies and after hours of silently s itting side-by-side, Grantaire working on his tablet and Enjolras typing on his laptop with his huge noise cancelling headphones. 

After a year of loving him openly. Because Grantaire loved Enjolras. And that was his crisis. Again, not the way it would have been the year before,  because Enjolras knew now. And Enjolras loved him back. (He had told him. Repeatedly. Whenever Grantaire seemed down he would hold his face in his hands and very seriously declare his love all over again before getting him chocolate. But mostly he would absentmindedly make the asl sign  for  “I love you” towards him. Grantaire melted every time.) 

So the love thing itself wasn’t the crisis. It was the showing how much he loved his smart, wonderful, awesome, beautiful boyfriend.  Apart from telling him, of course.

It wasn’t because he somehow doubted that Enjolras  knew , that possibility had disappeared down the drain the day Enjolras had shyly  (although his version of shyness included looking deeply determined and also a PowerPoint) asked him on a date to the planetarium (the planetarium!) and he had just blurted it out.  Enjolras had smiled his startled little smile and asked if that meant a yes. 

So. Enjolras knew. But that didn’t mean that Grantaire didn’t want to show him how much he appreciated him, like, all the time. Like right now, when he sleepily blinked up at Grantaire, beamed at him, and then immediately went to sleep. It was so fucking adorable he could cry.  And because he couldn’t actually do that – Enjolras would become worried and start an analyses on anything that could make him unhappy – he had to think of some other way to showcase his love. Perhaps a seasonally appropriate way.  Like  V alentine’s  D ay.

Which was were the communal-couple-planning-calendar came into play. The communal-couple-planning-calendar – or, as Courfeyrac liked to call it, “sexy-time schedule for boring people” – was used to tell each other when they didn’t have time for some reason and also to block out time where _you really shouldn’t plan anything, please._ The communal-couple-planning-calendar was not bought at a store or decorated with bright colours and only slightly cohesive stock images; instead it featured Enjolras in full planning mode and absolute efficiency. That meant while all their friends’ birthdays and friends’ pets’ birthdays (Bahorel had been heart-broken the one time nobody had remembered his pet BCI David Boa’s birthday) were listed meticulously, commercial holidays were fully absent. (He made an exception for everything his friends celebrated; he took Hanukkah very seriously.)

If Grantaire was fully honest with himself, he wasn’t e ntirely sure Enjolras was even aware that most of them existed. Sure, Enjolras would rant about commercialisation and corporate greed, but he didn’t seem to even notice when the supermarkets would turn orange and black during October, fade to red and green and eventually be covered in bubblegum pink and hearts. 

The point was, Enjolras probably  wasn’t aware that  V alentine’s  D ay was actually a thing. He hadn’t marked anything in the  communal-couple-planning-calendar  one way or the other and the fact that it fell on a Sunday made Grantaire hopeful that no spontaneous disaster was going to erupt. 

The only problem that had stopped him from marking down the date was that he didn’t really know what to do. That was why project “demonstrate your love for the bestestest boyfriend ever with a really fucking amazing valentine’s day date that will blow the socks off him and then maybe blow something else if he wants that”, short “DYLFTBBEWARFVDDTWBTSOHATBSEIHT” (he would really have to optimize that title) was currently still in its crisis stage.

Creating a good date and/or gift for Enjolras was complicated.  He would make art for him but he already did that  _all the time._ Their flat was overflowing with prints and paintings Grantaire had given Enjolras  and  that he insisted on hanging up. So making art was out of the question, even if Enjolras would undoubtedly be ecstatic. 

Going to a restaurant with him was a no-go. He hated food-sounds and it was always questionable whether or not any of the food served would have a good texture.

Everything else he could think of didn’t really make for a good date. Supporting local businesses was nice, but he didn’t think shopping for organic cereal would fully get his point across.

His friends weren’t much help either. He had asked Courfeyrac

(Loud squeaking, followed by “Just give him yourself. Naked on the bed”,  a nd an eyebrow waggle. 

“Fuck off, Courf.”

“Maybe later.”)

Combeferre

(“You should take him to the planetarium.”

“We already went there for our first date, I’m not copying him.”

“Hm. There is a moth exhibit at the natural history museum.”

“Neither of us is interested in moths that much. You should ask Courf to take you.”  
  


“What? Why would I ask xem? There is nothing like that between us. I don’t feel anything for xem! I mean, obviously I love xem, but only as a friend. It wouldn’t do to destroy that.”

“Why did I even bother asking you?”)

and Jehan

(“Give him the shrimp colours.”

“I can’t give him the shrimp colours.”

“Why not?”

“Are you stoned?”

“Yes.”)

and none of them had been helpful. He hadn’t even bothered with Joly or Bossuet, who were so disgustingly happy with Musichetta Grantaire wanted to die of joy for them.

He was alone in his noble quest to bring joy to his favourite angry bean. A crisis, as he’d said. A crisis he was worrying about  while cuddling its cause. Who was going to notice soon that he was an unusually tense pillow. 

H e slowly breathed in and out a few times and forced his limbs to  relax again.  Enjolras responded by nuzzling further into his chest and Grantaire couldn’t help but smile. A soft, crisis flavoured smile. Everything was tinted with his crisis.  The golden speckled morning light falling through the window was crisis coloured.  His soft t-shirt was crisis textured. The box for Sunday, February 14 th in the  communal-couple-planning-calendar  was filled with a crisis shaped emptiness. 

H e looked down at Enjolras’ hair and then let his gaze sweep through the room.  There was their closet with its painted doors that had fallen victim to Grantaire’s insomnia once, and the bulletin board covered with neatly arranged pictures of them and their friends. There were the photos of dogs Enjolras had brought into the flat when they moved in because he “just really likes dogs, okay, where’s the problem with that?”. Grantaire had asked why he didn’t just g et his own a dog and Enjolras sheepishly explained that he just never had the adequate time or space to properly care for one. Then he’ d looked longingly at a picture of something that could most accurately as a mop with eyes.

Grantaire’s heart ached.  He smoothed his hand down Enjolras’ curls, comforting him about something he probably wasn’t even thinking about. He sighed lowly. He was kind of a shitty boyfriend (his inner Joly whacked him over the head): he couldn’t come up with a good valentine’s gift  _or_ fulfil Enjolras’ dog-dream.

Wait.

He almost shot up in bed u nti l he remembered the human shaped lump on top of him and just tensed dramatically instead.  Enjolras grumbled silently and pressed even closer, almost making it hard to breathe for Grantaire. But he just smiled. 

Grantaire had solved his crisis.

-

“We have something to do on the fourteenth?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Oh, okay.”

-

After coming up with an idea, Grantaire only needed a plan.

Since moving into their new flat, Enjolras and Grantaire had more space than before with Grantaire mainly working from home and really, walking a dog would probably help him lose his mind not quite as often. He felt pretty good about getting a fluffy friend.

The complicated bit of the plan was organising it without Enjolras noticing. He wasn’t an idiot, you couldn’t just get a dog  without preparing for it. You needed other stuff, and you needed space to put that other stuff without your boyfriend noticing and being very confused about all the dog stuff without a dog. Okay, maybe the hiding-your-plans-from-your-boyfriend part wasn’t as universal, but still. He had to organise a shit-ton of stuff. Including where to get the dog.

Obviously they would adopt  a rescue . Enjolras wouldn’t accept anything else and g iving an unwanted pet a loving home  would feed right into his bleeding heart, and since he’ d started holding it, Grantaire had become quite invested in said heart. And in the excited glint in Enjolras’ eyes whenever he did something good.

And in order to see that glint he would have to organise some shit and in order to organise that shit properly he would need the help of his friends. The best person to go to logistically was Courfeyrac, because xe had a huge flat where Grantaire could easily store any- and everything a dog might need. After all, it was large enough to fit an entire Marius Pontmercy. Unfortunately, in reality Courfeyrac was the absolute worst person to go to, because xe was absolutely useless at keeping secrets, especially from xir best friend. 

So instead Grantaire went to Feuilly, who had less space and was the best keeper of secrets ever.  He also only did minimal teasing about how absolutely smitten Grantaire was; a big plus in his book. Not to mention that some of Feuilly’s five million different jobs included both a pet groomer and a dog-sitter. He kind of knew what he was doing, which was more than Grantaire could say for himself on most days. 

“You are the absolute best!”

“I know, I know. Want some pizza?.”

“Sure, sounds great.”

“Cool, you pay.”

“Hey!”

“I’m doing you a favour, you owe me.”

“You’re such a dick.”

“You love me.”

A  deep, dramatic sigh: “ I won’t buy you anything with pineapple. ”

“I knew you’d see my way.” Feuilly grinned and dropped down on is couch while Grantaire pulled out his phone.

-

T he only thing still on his list was where to get the dog. 

It needed to be a local place, because Grantaire took surprises very seriously and Enjolras would get nauseous  if he made him sit in the car with a blindfold. And because Enjolras didn’t like unnecessary carbon emissions. 

It also needed to be open on a Sunday.  And pass ethical guidelines.

Luckily, Google was a thing.

Unfortunately, the pickings were slim.

It took about five hours, twelve deleted search histories, and seven individual assurances that “it’s nothing, Enjolras, don’t worry about it, NO, DON’T LOOK AT THE SCREEN!”

It was a process.

But finally, after crying only a perfectly appropriate amount, he found a small, local non-profit that donated all of its proceeds  to anti-animal-cruelty organisations. They were also willing let Grantaire come in that Sunday and do boyfriend-shenanigans after he called them. 

Victory.

He was fully reasonable in his joy after that success and he would not apologize for starting a spontaneous dance-party.

(Enjolras lifted his eyebrow:“Are we celebrating something?”

Grantaire grinned back at him without stopping to dance: “I can’t just be happy?”

He huffed but Grantaire could see were he was fighting to keep the corner of his mouth from ticking up.

“Come on, loosen up a little, join me!”

“I really don’t have time, I’m sorry.”

“You are already wearing fluffy socks, those are ideal for dancing.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes affectionately and joined him by starting to dance in his electrocuted chicken way. )

I t had been a great day. 

The high of it carried him through the week leading up to valentine’s and only started to get replaced by an electric nervousness coursing through his veins and making him fidget even more than usual. He hoped Enjolras wouldn’t notice, but Enjolras was the world’s greatest and most dedicated boyfriend, so of course he noticed.

On Friday evening he came up to Grantaire and almost gave him a heart attack, because Grantaire was too busy thinking up dooms-day scenarios to be aware of his surroundings. Enjolras’ already worried expression tightened further as he pressed a cup of cocoa into his hands. There were little marshmallows floating at the top. 

“Thanks, love”, Grantaire mumbled into the beverage and forced his hands to still so he wouldn’t spill any on the couch. Instead he stared at his socks. One of them had an avocado pattern and the other one was eye-wateringly pink. His knee stared to wobble again.

Enjolras gently laid his hand on his knee, causing Grantaire to look back up at his face.  His gaze slithered past his eyes to the worried crease between his brows. Enjolras was worried about him, but he was only worried about him because he thought Grantaire was a good person which he definitely wouldn’t once Grantaire tried to pull off his plan and he fucked it up and Enjolras would hate him and then a dog would bite him and he would die because of rabies and then the dog would be p ut down and all his friends would hate him forever and not come to his funeral. 

T he furrow deepened. Enjolras knew him well enough to spot when he was spiralling, because he was a great fucking boyfriend and paid attention and would never fuck up the way Grantaire did and he didn’t deserve him, he was going to destroy Enjolras.

Enjolras gently pushed the hand holding the cocoa up to his mouth and forced Grantaire to take a sip. It tasted like heaven.  Enjolras was the best.

He patiently waited until Grantaire had emptied the cup and then pulled it out of his hands to set it on the floor next to the couch. Grantaire wanted to protest that it would break but refrained because Enjolras likely already knew every consequence this could bring and decided to do it anyway. Grantaire looked at the cup with its World’s Greatest Mom print (a gift from Courfeyrac when they first moved in together) and the small chip on the handle.

He felt a hand on his wrist and allowed himself to be tucked into Enjolras’ side. He had calmed down some from his nervous state and was very tired now. Enjolras put his arm around his shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

Grantaire murmured something incoherent into his shoulder that he hoped sounded vaguely affirmative.

Enjolras started softly rubbing his side. “Feuilly texted me that you might be kind of stressed right now.  Because of some project you have going on? ”

Grantaire managed a nod. He had the best friends, knowing him well enough to anticipate when he would struggle and trying to help him as well as they could. Grantaire really didn’t deserve them.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Grantaire pressed a little closer and shook his head. “Just be there.”

Enjolras waited for a moment and hummed thoughtfully. “You know that you can always come to me if you have a problem? Especially if you have a problem with me?”

Grantaire  straightened up to look at Enjolras directly. “I promise you that I don’t have a problem with you. It’s just something that’ stress ing me out right now that I talked to Feuilly about before,  because it’s in his area of expertise, and he knows what’s going on. Don’t worry, it’ll be alright soon.”

“Okay. Tell me if anything changes or you need my help.”

Grantaire pulled a tired smile on his face:”Thank you. W ould you just cuddle me a bit?”

Enjolras smiled back: “Of course.” He then proceeded to wrap himself around Grantaire like an octopus. “Do you want your weighted blanket?”

“Nah, it’s fine.”

“Alright,” he responded and Grantaire felt him press a kiss to the top of his head. He closed his eyes and snuggled closer to his boyfriend. He slowly felt himself relax and with the exhaustion left behind by the emotional exertion of the day; he didn’t fight it when softly drifted off.

-

On Sunday, Grantaire woke up with Enjolras directly in his face.

It was somewhat expected; no matter how patient he pretended to be, Enjolras was intensely curious. Therefore, it came as no surprise when he was lured awake by the intense feeling of being watched. In response to Enjolras’ intense, blue eyed stare, he pulled an involuntary smile on his face and didn’t resist the urge to  mess up his boyfriend’s hair a bit further. 

Pulled out of his reverie, Enjolras looked mildly embarrassed but still a bit like he would explode if he didn’t find out what was going to happen soon. 

Grantaire grinned. “How do you feel about breakfast?”

Enjolras responded with something that managed to be a near perfect mixture of a scowl and i nquisitive ness .  After a few seconds, he gave a small nod. Grantaire pulled him down for a quick kiss and then very gently pushed him off the bed and shuffled both of them through the door. 

H e made both of them pancakes with apple s lices in them while Enjolras turned on the kettle for tea – black tea for Grantaire and some sort of fruity mix for Enjolras – and set the table. 

The mixture of excitement and nervousness bubbling in Grantaire’s stomach meant that he wasn’t terribly hungry, but Enjolras was always happy when they ate together so he swallowed past the lump in his throat until  the sweetness of the pancakes reached him. 

Breakfast ended when all the pancakes where decimated and Enjolras practically vibrated in his chair. 

It therefore took them about five minutes to get dressed, two of which were spent with Enjolras telling him to “hurry up already” and Grantaire rolling his eyes fondly.

Finally, when they were standing by the door, wrapped up in thick coats and hats to protect them against the mixture of snow and rain  that rained down outside, Grantaire pulled out another scarf and stepped behind Enjolras.

“Is this really necessary?”, Enjolras asked while holding still, so that Grantaire could put it over his eyes properly.

“It’s not going to be much of a surprise if you can see where we are going”, he answered while pulling the knot tight and stepping around him again.

Enjolras feigned a sigh as Grantaire made a motion as if he was going to punch him in the face. Enjolras didn’t flinch and Grantaire nodded, satisfied with his blindfolding abilities.

“I’m going to take your hand now”, he warned, as to not startle Enjolras. He slid his arm around his waste and told him about everywhere they walked, from opening the door, to making sure he didn’t stumble at the top of the stairs and helping him find his footing on the slippery side-walk. This wasn’t the first time they had walked together like this; Grantaire still remembered the guilt he felt when he’d dragged him into a store once and Enjolras became overwhelmed and hid his face in Grantaire’s shoulder while he led them outside.

This time was much more pleasant and his own incessant narration of what they where doing even seemed to distract Enjolras a bit from his curiosity. The weather and  way they were walking slowed them down so it took them almost half an hour until Grantaire gently stopped them in front of the shelter.

“Okay, almost there, watch out, there’s a step.”

Enjolras shuffled forward until his shoe bumped into the concrete, “I can’t watch out while wearing a blindfold.”

“Whatever. I’m pushing the door open now.”

As soon as they stepped inside, Grantaire watched Enjolras take a deep breath and try to listen to as much as possible. “It smells like…  fur? ”  A loud fluttering sound. “Was that a bird?”

Grantaire chuckled. “You can take the blindfold off now.”

Enjolras obeyed by pushing the scarf up and cautiously blinking his eyes open to get used to the light again before looking around. “A pet store?”

“Animal shelter!” came a jovial voice from a doorway leading further into the building. They turned to look at a smiling woman, raising her hand in a small wave. “Welcome. Monsieur Grantaire said you were coming. I’m guessing that’s you, then?”

She turned towards Grantaire and he nodded. “Wonderful! If you would follow me through here, that’s where our dogs are.”

Enjolras turned to look at Grantaire with huge eyes: “Dogs?”

“Yup, you get to choose one”, he grinned and made to follow the woman but didn’t make it very far until all air was pressed out of him by the force of the hug Enjolras pulled him into.

After a moment of surprise he relaxed into the embrace  just in time for Enjolras to whisper a litany of “thank you”s into his hair. 

He pulled back to look up at Enjolras’ face, only to be blinded by the force of the smile that  was crinkling the corners of his eyes and putting dimples in his cheeks. Grantaire couldn’t help but smile back helplessly until Enjolras grabbed his hand, still beaming, and pulling him towards the doorway. 

“Come on, we need to look at the dogs!”

Grantaire laughed and stumbled after him, vaguely aware that the woman was cooing at them but not caring enough to dim his no doubt ridiculous smile.

He almost didn’t register the corridor they walked down, nor when they entered a new room filled with dogs in all shapes and sizes. Well, about eight different shapes and sizes, the place wasn’t that big.  That didn’t stop Enjolras from practically jumping up and down when looking at them. 

He pointed at the one closest to them: “What’s their name?”

“That is Buttercup. She is a Pitbull, about a year old. She’s very energetic but also very friendly.”

“And that one?”

“Theodor is a three year old Golden Retriever-Poodle mix, as far as we can tell. Very shy at first, but don’t let that fool you.”

“And…” it went on until they got to the last dog in the room: A scruffy ball of fur whose one eye was almost fully covered by the mop of hair on their head. 

The smile on the woman’s face turned a bit softer as the dog panted up at them, their  pink tongue lolling out of their mouth. 

“This is our oldest one. We think he’s maybe six or seven, but it’s hard to tell. He’s been with us for two years now.” She crouched down and petted the dog until he started slowly wagging his tail. “You should have seen him when first got him, mostly fur and bones and incredibly skittish. He’s come a long way.”

Enjolras crouched down next to her and cautiously held his hand to the dog’s nose, smiling when he started licking it. “ Do you know what breed he is? ”

She hummed, “Not really, but we think the fur pattern might be Blue Merle.”

Enjolras nodded seriously and then did a very complicated thing with his face that was usually found in parents seeing their newborn child for the first time when the dog moved his head and his ear flopped over.

“What’s his name?”

“Napoleon.”

Grantaire only felt a little bad for the laugh that escaped him in response to Enjolras’ expression.  It somehow managed to both stay frozen in the besotted expression from before  _and_ look like he had sucked  on  a  lemon.

When he spoke again his voice sounded like he had written down the wrong deadline and realised about two hours before it was due: “Is there any way to maybe change the name?”

The woman seemed bemused by his reaction. “I’m afraid not. He has grown very used to it and we think he should have as much stability in his life as possible, especially if he’s getting adopted. That can be quite stressful for a while.”

Enjolras’ sigh was the confirmation that the deadline wouldn’t be extended and that he would not sleep that night and still be late. However, it was cut short by Napoleon rolling on his back and baring his stomach. Enjolras looked at the woman who nodded at him before scratching his stomach and giving a helpless laugh when Napoleon’s tail thumped against the floor in response.

Grantaire  r ested his hand on Enjolras’ shoulder and smiled at him in the split second he managed to tear his eyes away from Napoleon. “Think you can live with the name?”

“I guess.” The wonder in his voice betrayed his begrudging words.

“So you want to take him?”

Enjolras had never nodded quicker in his life, not even when  he was offered a senior editing position at the magazine he worked for. A second later his expression dimmed: “But we can’t take him right now,” he said mournfully, “we need to get so much stuff first. A bowl, and a bed, and-”

Grantaire squeezed his shoulder. “Way ahead of you. We just have to pick the stuff up at Feuilly’s.”

There were a few feelings in the world that couldn’t be compared to anything else: the five minutes after finishing a painting where he liked what he created, the moment of falling asleep after after a long but productive day, looking into his boyfriend’s face when they made love and he was about to come, and, of course, making Enjolras look at him like he was the best thing life had ever given to him.

This was one of the occasions he felt the last one.

It almost hurt how much he loved him in that moment, the feeling curled behind his ribs and glowing against his heart, so large that his lungs just barely fit next to it.

Enjolras stood up and kissed him with so much enthusiasm that he b arely h it his lips at first and it took them a few seconds to fall into each other in the way they had gotten used to over days and months. They didn’t often indulge in these public displays of affection – Enjolras was way too private for that and Grantaire was content to hold his hand while they were walking, squeezing it every once in a while and getting a responding squeeze in return. There was a comfort in that casualness, just as there was a comfort in this demonstration. Enjolras kissing him now meant that he had run out of words and didn’t know another way to tell him what he felt. Grantaire responded the same way.

He didn’t fully register what happened after they broke apart.  H e knew  that they must have walked back to the front, Napoleon in tow, signed a contract, received papers, walked home and gone to Feuilly. But the next thing he fully noticed was when they were back at the flat and Enjolras was walking around with Napoleon, very seriously telling him where everything was. 

“You know he can’t actually understand you, right?”

“He needs to feel welcome and at home!”

“Alright, alright, whatever you say,” he couldn’t stop himself from sounding dangerously fond.

That night, as they lay in bed, curled around each other, Grantaire rested his head on Enjolras’ chest and muttered an only mildly sleepy “Happy Valentine’s Day”

“It’s Valentine’s Day?” Enjolras’ voice sounded genuinely surprised from somewhere above Grantaire’s head.

“Mhm,” he mumbled “this was your gift.”

A moment of silence passed until, “Oh. I didn’t get you anything.”

“That’s alright. I’m just happy that you’re happy.”

He could hear the soft smile in his voice when he answered: “Thank you. I love you, you know?”

“I love you, too”

They were interrupted by a clacking sound on the floorboards. Lifting his head and squinting in the darkness he saw Napoleon standing in front of the bed. His round eye seemed to be begging t hem for love.

“I think he was lonely in his bed,” Enjolras said, the hope obvious in his tone.

“Ugh, fine,” he answered and was rewarded by a hug from Enjolras and the entirety of Napoleon’s weight jumping on him. As he drifted off he was surrounded by both the warmth of his boyfriend and Napoleon breathing softly against his side. He felt peaceful and loved and knew that Enjolras felt the same.

(“You know that you have to tell Courfeyrac you schemed to get a dog without telling xem?”

“Oh, _fuck!_ ”)

**Author's Note:**

> ...they a-dog-ted Napoleon
> 
> Thank you for reading! (If you are feeling particularly generous today, maybe consider leaving kudos or a comment, it would make my day)
> 
> Enjolras' sensory issues were brought to you by "I do not like Hollister and if you take me there you should be prepared to maneuver all of me back outside"
> 
> Once again, this fic would not exist were it not for the [hoeshold](https://discord.com/invite/vERrqvA) so come join us and tell Liz how great she is! And thank you to MJ for organising this!


End file.
